Page 86 of A Veil of Gods and Kings

His face froze. “Well… I mean…”

“They’re awful, predators, self-conceited? Does that sound right?”

His cheeks deepened in color, and he cleared his throat. “Maybe.”

“It’s all basically true. There are some good gods, but…” I sighed. “I don’t wish to be like that, you know? I’d like to have a chance to do good.”

“Can’t you do that as a god?”

“I can’t explain it. It changes people. I’ve seen it happen to some of my siblings. I don’t want that for myself. And I’d miss the earth. I’d miss my sister.”

“Couldn’t you come and go as you please?”

A sour taste crept into my mouth, and I smacked it away. “No. High gods can’t stay on earth too long. It makes them sick.”

“You’re kidding?”

“How many times do I have to tell you I’m honest before you believe me? Hades’ realm, you must have people lie to you all the time.”

He scrunched his fingers into his short hair and then brushed them down the long line of his neck. “I do, actually, every day.”

“Well, I’m not those people. In fact, as you seem to insist on reminding me, I’m not even really a person.”

He winced. “I don’t mean it like that.”

“It’s fine.”

He sighed and turned back to the lake. The sun dipped down below the horizon, the world taking on a jewel tone. “I may not be half-deity. I’m a mortal.” Hyacinth frowned. “My life will be short, I suppose. But I understand, to some extent.”

“Yeah,” I replied, because, as I’d said, I didn’t lie. And he did get it. That’s part of what compelled me towards him.

He dropped his hand to the grass, his knuckles brushing mine.

My heart stuttered.

He shifted again, his wrist grazing along my skin.

He lifted his face and—there it was—the real Hyacinth. The person. The man full of dreams and bravery and wishes and fears and, at that moment, a spark of insecurity that gave his expression an uncertain bent.

I snaked my palm around his hand.

And slid my fingers between his.

He released a breath, a sigh that shuddered alongside the wind that scattered puffy dandelions nearby, dusting us in their velvety seeds.

Hyacinth’s skin against mine caused flames to lap up in me again, simmer in my veins, my entire body tinder for the spark of his touch.

He trembled, and I tightened my grip.

The sun bowed before us, draping into the hills, passing the torch of creating heat off for us to bear. We remained quiet for a long time, our skin drying as the world grew dark. The moon crept out and rose above the lake, an ivory mountain swelling against the sky. The waterfall hushed. Lightning bugs dashed around, sparkling against the navy of evening as frogs chirped and bellowed.

I broke the silence between us. “All the night noises are almost like a melody.”

Hyacinth turned to face me, his grip still in mine. He blinked twice, his hazel eyes reflecting the moon. “Do you dance?”

I snorted. “No.”

“You’ve never danced before?” He cocked an eyebrow up.